The Little Things
by Fanatical Alice
Summary: They're simply, kind of, irreplaceable.


_~ A bird does not sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song. ~_

* * *

They decide to sleep in today. It is a mutual decision made through murmured whispers and grunts of agreement.

As he wanders back into sleep, it suddenly strikes Shion funny that in the beginning when he first moved in with Nezumi, the concept of sharing a bed made him uncomfortable. But now, as he snuggles closer against the other boy's warm body, he can't imagine ever being able to fall asleep _without_ the soft lullaby of his counterpart's breathing, or their combined heat that fills the blankets and chases away the chill. Shion had always been a light sleeper before, however these days it is Nezumi's face he wakes up to – a nudge on the shoulder, a peck on the cheek. A silent ritual he's grown to cherish.

And Shion decides this is why he never got a decent rest before coming here – it's awfully lonely when forced to face your nightmares by yourself.

* * *

There's a bird on Shion's shoulder and the damned thing won't fly away. Nezumi glares at it and wills the little bugger to get a sudden craving for worms or something – because it's hard to kiss the white haired boy when he fears he'll get his eyes pecked out. That pointy yellow beak is no joke. Shion's laughing though; he doesn't seem to mind the new companion twittering in his ear. Then again, Shion's just down right easy going. Any bastard could walk up to him, punch him straight across the cheek, and Shion would still be smiling that childish little smile with a bruise blooming underneath his eye.

Nezumi scoffed. As if he'd let anyone punch Shion. What a stupid example.

Finally loosing the dwindling strands of his patience, Nezumi flicks the bird off of Shion's shoulder.

Shion frowns. "What was that-?"

But Nezumi kisses him hard on the mouth and the bird is promptly forgotten.

* * *

Nezumi sings while he cooks, Shion notices. The boy's nimble fingers toss, stir and cut with ease has he hums a pretty little tune. Shion edges closer so he can hear the words, careful not to make a sound. He doesn't want Nezumi to loose the meager peace nestled in his beautiful eyes, as he concentrates on the food and not this falling apart world.

The song ends, to Shion's disappointment, and Nezumi sets a bowl of stew in front of him.

"What are you smiling about?" Nezumi demands almost playfully, still light with that special look remaining in his gaze.

Shion's grin widens unconsciously. "You have a lovely voice."

"Shaddup." Nezumi swats him upside the head and rolls his eyes. A tinge of pink dusts his cheeks.

The stew is delicious.

* * *

"Shion?" Nezumi asks for the boy in the smothering darkness.

"What's wrong?" Shion yawns. He perches up on his elbow, thick white bangs brushing across his concerned eyes.

At second thought, Nezumi places a clammy fist on Shion's chest and pushes him back down on the mattress. "Nothing. Never mind."

Silence envelops them.

"Was it another nightmare?" Shion asks quietly.

"No," Nezumi snaps. "Forget it. Go back to sleep."

But before he can shift away from Shion, the boy is cuddling next to him, holding his arm close with a wiry, but strong, grip. He nestles his head down on Nezumi's shoulder. They do not speak. They do not move. And when they fall asleep, a million meaningless comforts go left unsaid, because, honestly, this is all he needs.

* * *

Shion watches Nezumi's back disappear. Smaller, smaller, smaller – _gone_.

The tears tumble over his lids and free fall off his chin. He does not bother with trying to rein in his emotions. They lay out beneath the rising sun, raw and boiling. Countless memories play out behind his lids. Nezumi's elegant smirk, suggesting everything yet saying nothing at all. The two of them dancing amongst the silently observing books, Shion's feet clunky and uncoordinated, leaning heavily on Nezumi's effortless grace. Reading stories, listening to Nezumi sternly lecture him on the many geniuses of literature. Those nights when neither party could fall asleep, indulging themselves in each other. Fighting, making up, those special kisses, chaste and unsullied in the shadows. Blushes. Surprises. Irreplaceable trust – no matter what, don't change. Endlessly gentle reassurances – it'll be okay, I promise. And Nezumi's melodious, hopeful, voice constantly easing them along. Precious moments in time that could never be repeated, only added to.

_Gone_.

And Shion decides with a sting that he hates good-bye kisses, too.

* * *

**notenotenote; thank ya for reading! i do not own No. 6 :)**


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